Angel
by Web of Obsidian
Summary: Clara met an angel when she was a little girl and helped it fly. It would only make sense that when /she/ started to fly, they would meet each other once more. A Babylon 5/Doctor Who crossover featuring the 11th Doctor, Clara, and Kosh. Multi-chapter, WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Clara Oswald was eleven years old, it was currently 12:37 AM, and she was unable to fall asleep. Summertime had rolled around, and she was out of school until September. Most of her friends had gone off on a vacation somewhere, so she was left out here, in this entirely unnatural heat wave. They didn't normally _get _this weather, summer weather was normally mild, bearable, sometimes a bit rainy but not like this. This was ridiculous. It was hot enough that she'd been lying on her bed for the past four hours trying to sleep, and couldn't.

Sighing and rubbing at her eyes in the hopes they would stop feeling gritty (if she was going to be awake, she wanted to be mildly comfortable and awake) and wandered over towards the window, which was open in the hopes of tempting in a nonexistent breeze. Clara enjoyed watching the stars – it was her mother's tales of traveling and adventure that did it. Yes, there were so many amazing places on Earth, but the _stars_... So far away, so beautiful, and entirely unreachable.

Oh. A small frown came to her lips, probably rather comical on her childish features, but nonetheless, it was genuine. Stars were entirely unreachable, but that one over there looked like it was falling. No, it _was _falling. That was a streak of light, and it was falling towards the woods about fifteen minutes away from her house.

She wasn't stupid. She _did _know that a shooting star was actually just a meteorite burning up in the atmosphere and it would almost certainly disintegrate before it hit the ground, but this actually looked like a falling star, a ball of light growing bigger by the second and heading towards that forest. This wasn't a meteorite, and she couldn't sleep.

Of course, that meant she probably shouldn't go looking for it, but she went for walks in the woods all of the time during the day. But that was during the day, and her mother or her father were always with her... but she could still walk there. She knew the way.

She hopped off the chair next to the windowsill and looked back at the clock. 12:39 AM. Mum and Dad would be both asleep by this point, almost definitely. They had air conditioning in their room, so of course they could sleep comfortably... There was a fan downstairs, but the only electrical outlet in her room was behind the headboard of her bed, so the cord wouldn't fit, leaving her in stifling humidity. Weather really needed to stop going through its rebellious phase and go back to normal.

The door was already open (try and let the house air out, weather needed to _stop_) so Clara was able to slip down the hallway and down the stairs. She grabbed her water bottle out of the fridge, pulled on a pair of sneakers, found her dad's flashlight, and was out the front door by 12:48.

Once she started walking, she found it was nicer outside. There was a little bit of a breeze, which felt _glorious_. She looked up at the sky once more at a faint whistling noise, and broke into a run when the streak plummeted into the trees with a loud _crash_. That turned out to be a bad idea, as there wasn't _that _much of a breeze and it was still hot outside and she didn't run that much to begin with, so she slowed to a walk and made her way through the empty streets until she was in the woods, and then she turned on the flashlight and walked towards where the smell of smoke was coming from.

Admittedly, she was scared. This wasn't a smart idea in the first place, but she was here... She should go back. Except she could see something through the shadows, almost, but she should really go back.

Clara turned the flashlight off and crept silently forwards until she was at the edge of a clearing, peering out from behind a tree. Her eyes widened.

There was an angel lying in the grass.

It was a little bit taller than a normal person, from what she could guess, probably a man, but he looked tired and hurt. He had wings, too, big white ones with feathers and they were _really big_. The clearing was twenty feet across and if she took a couple steps forward she could touch the wingtips. In the moonlight he was glowing, although with the amount of light it looked as though he would glow anyway even without any light.

But he looked hurt, too. He was face-down, only sort of breathing, and he was shaking, too. Clara bit her lip. She should help him, right? Her mother always said that if somebody was hurt, then somebody else should help them.

She stepped out from behind the tree and hesitantly walked forwards until she was standing next to the angel's head, and knelt down.

"Hello?" she asked quietly. "Can you hear me?"

The angel's eyes flew open and he jerked away, wings flaring outwards like he was going to try and fly or hit her with them. Clara shrieked and scrambled backwards, cringing and squeezing her eyes shut.

When nothing happened, she opened them again.

It looked like the angel _had _tried to fly away, but he was too hurt. He was breathing heavily, and kneeling on all fours. His wings were more curled around him, now, but she could still see his face. His eyes were blue, and he didn't have any hair, but it only made him seem more powerful, more mysterious. He was also wearing a white sort of robe, but it looked as though it had been shredded.

"Hello?" she repeated again, quietly, not moving. "My name's Clara."

The angel just looked at her warily, but he wasn't trying to hurt her, so she started scooting forwards.

"I'm eleven," she continued, now in the middle of the clearing. "Are you an angel?"

"_No."_

The word was loud inside her head, and the angel- the person's mouth hadn't moved, but he was the one who spoke. He had to have been.

"Okay. Are you hurt?" There wasn't a response this time, but she was almost in front of him, now. "You looked like you were hurt."

"_I am not."_

She nodded, now sitting directly in front of him, and stopped moving. "What's your name?"

"_A leaf is on a tree, yet it is not a tree."_

She frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"_The wind blows itself, it is not blown."_

"Are you hurt?"

Now the angel seemed confused. ...He said he wasn't an angel, but he really did look like one.

"_That does not matter."_

"Yes it does!" She nodded emphatically. "If you're hurt, someone should help you. That's what my mom always says."

"_The time?"_

"What time is it?" she asked, wanting him to clarify. He still didn't answer, so she guessed he wasn't a very talkative angel, but it wasn't a no. "One o'clock in the morning."

"_Year."_

_Oh_, he wanted the _date_. "July 7th, 1996!" she stated proudly, happy that she knew the answer.

"_Earth."_

"Yup. Are you sure you aren't an angel?"

"_Why does the mouse not cower at the lion?"_

Clara shrugged, just letting the angel say the strange things.

"Do you need help to fly back to heaven? 'Cause I know somewhere you can stay until you aren't hurt and then you can fly again when you're better."

The angel seemed even more confused now, but finally he reached out and took her hand.

.-~)O(~-.

Clara went to visit the angel every day. There was an old cabin in the woods that nobody used, and Tommy from the ninth grade swore up and down that it was haunted, but Clara knew it wasn't because her dad had told her that it was just that nobody lived there anymore. If nobody lived there, the angel could stay until he could fly again.

She left him her water bottle, too, that night, since he was probably thirsty and she needed to get back home. But she said she'd come tomorrow.

The angel was still there on the second day, and he had drank the water. Clara had told her mother that she was going to Nina's house, who lived just down the street so she could walk there when she wanted. Of course, she was going to visit the angel, but her mother didn't need to know that.

She brought him food and more water, since it was still a little hot outside (although cooler than it was yesterday) and talked animatedly to him while he either remained silent or gave cryptic responses.

The third day she went back again, but this time with the first aid kit out of the bathroom. Her mother watched her go in amusement, smiling at her daughter's imagination. The angel didn't let her come near him with it, so she left it there for him.

After a week, he finally let her come within five feet again (he hadn't since the first night) and spoke in a way that made sense to the young girl.

"_You are kind."_

She smiled. "Thank you, angel."

"_I am not."_

"But you haven't said what you are!" she argued. "You _look _like an angel, and I don't know your name, so I'm gonna call you an angel."

"_Kosh."_

"That's your name?"

"_Yes."_

Clara smiled again. "See! That was pretty easy. How did you get hurt, Kosh?"

"_I fled from the shadows."_

"But shadows can't hurt you..."

"_Not shadows. __The__ shadows." _She still didn't get it, but nodded anyway. _"I fell here. You are kind."_

"Thank you. Do you think you'll be able to fly, soon? Or are you gonna stay here?"

Kosh didn't say anything else, even when she left and waved goodbye.

When she came back on the eighth day, Kosh was gone, but her water bottle was left on the table, and there was a maple leaf underneath it. No goodbyes, no more words, the angel... _Kosh_... was just gone. And that was that.

* * *

**So I basically have this headcanon where Kosh somehow escapes from the Shadows and has a reason for not telling anybody he's still alive. I mean, there wasn't a body, just his suit. And technically there was a piece of his soul inside Sheridan, but maybe it was like a piece of his power that he gave to him before he ran.**

**I just really like Kosh, okay? And Vorlons in general. So here we have a young Clara meeting her 'angel', Kosh, outside of his encounter suit. More will be explained in the next chapter. First venture into the B5 fandom, so lemme know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't have much time, son._

He was falling. Fleeing.

_You were right. Don't blame yourself._

He was old and powerful, but a single Shadow was his equal, and a dozen of them were too much. A candle was no match for a hurricane.

_It's too late for me. I'm sorry for what I did before._

He was old and powerful, he might have been able to fight them off, maybe, but he couldn't. So he fled. That was an option, so he took it.

_I wish I could have done more for you. I've got to go now, John._

_No. No, don't- don't leave-_

He didn't know where he was. He ripped himself out of his encounter suit and most likely vaporized his quarters, and ran. And he didn't know where or when, he just needed to escape.

_It's all right, son. See, as long as you're here, I'll always be here._

_Kosh-!_

He hit the ground with enough force to kill a Narn, and it hurt. There was grass underneath him, he could hear everything within a mile and instantly knew he was on an Earth-like planet of some sort, and... pain. It was new, that feeling.

He tried to breathe, but the Shadows had made him weak. Just breathe-

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

The voice was quiet, gentle, and not at all to be perceived as a threat, but nonetheless he found himself leaping backwards into a defensive position – he wasn't afraid of the voice. Vorlons were above that.

There was nothing to be afraid of, truth be told. Crouched on the opposite side of the clearing, across the small crater caused by his impact, was a little human girl, very young, even by human terms. By Vorlon standards she was infantile at best.

"Hello?" the child repeated. "My name's Clara."

He didn't respond. There were no forests like this on the current Earth, at least not ones children could enter at a moment's notice. How far had he ran? The girl started to shuffle forwards warily. A brave child, then.

"I'm seven," she continued. "Are you an angel?"

The suggestion was preposterous enough he dignified it with a response.

"_No."_

Yes, truly a brave girl, if voices inside her head did not faze her.

"Are you hurt?" By this point she was in front of him, and tilting her head to one side curiously. "You looked like you were hurt."

Humans could not help him. _"I am not."_

"What's your name?"

Perhaps a cryptic reply would keep her thinking for a moment or two and grant him silence. _"A leaf is on a tree, yet it is not a tree." _In other words, _my name has no meaning._

As expected, a frown passed over the child's face. "That doesn't make sense."

"_The wind blows itself, it is not blown." Does anything make sense?_

"Are you hurt?"

He stopped again at her words. He had told her this, answered this question already. _"That does not matter."_

"Yes it does!" She nodded for emphasis. "If you're hurt, someone should help you! That's what my mom always says."

He shook his head. _"The time?" _How far had he ran?

"What time is it?" The girl paused, and he just waited for a reply to his question. "One o'clock in the morning."

Not what he meant. _"Year."_

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up. "July 7th, 1996!"

"_Earth..."_

"Are you an angel?" the girl asked again.

"_Why does the mouse not cower at the lion?" Why aren't you afraid?_

"Do you need help to fly back to heaven? 'Cause I know somewhere you can stay until you aren't hurt and then you can fly again when you're better."

And for the first time in history, a Vorlon, outside of its encounter suit, accepted the offer of help from the human and took it by the hand.

Clara brought him to an old house, made of wood. He had not realized he had ran so far... it would take time to get back. She left him a container of water on the first night, told him she had to leave, and took off. It was an old, dilapidated shelter, drafty and repulsive... He drank the water with a grimace (water was not common on Vorlon), and waited until she returned the second day. She came with more food and more water, and talked at him for five very long hours until leaving him again in blessed silence. The food was not very good, the water passable, but he was alive.

On the third day she came with a primitive human medical kit, but his wounds were not something technology from his time could fix, and he refused to let her come close. She brought it back with her when she left, and on the fourth day came once more with food and water.

On the seventh day he let her come closer and looked down at her with the barest hint of compassion.

"_You are kind."_

He could have been found by someone that would have attempted to keep him captive, which wouldn't have worked, but it would have been far less pleasant. This child, instead, helped him, and for that he was rather grateful. Humanity... so complex.

Clara smiled. "Thank you, angel."

He wasn't... _"I am not."_

"But you haven't said what you are!" she pointed out. "You _look _like and angel, and I don't know your name, so I'm gonna call you angel."

He wasn't an angel. _"Kosh."_

The girl's eyes widened. "That's your name?"

"_Yes."_

"See, that was pretty easy!" she grinned. "How did you get hurt, Kosh?"

The child was too young to know.

"_I fled from the shadows."_

"But shadows can't hurt you-"

"_Not shadows. The shadows. I fell here. You are kind."_

He wanted to make her happy – he wasn't going to be staying very much longer. It wouldn't take much longer to recuperate until he could return to a time somewhere around his own.

"Do you think you'll be able to fly, soon?" she asked. So many questions. "Or are you gonna stay here?"

_I will leave soon, child._

He didn't have the heart to tell her. He placed her container of liquid on the small shelf next to the doorway and in a heartbeat he was gone.

OoOoO

Clara Oswald wasn't sure what suddenly prompted her to start talking, but they were inside the TARDIS and the Doctor had been busying himself for the past hour trying to "fix" the console.

"I met an angel when I was little."

The sounds of tinkering from underneath the glass floor suddenly ceased. There was a long, slightly awkward pause. "Sorry, what was that?"

She got up and meandered down the stairs, hand trailing down the railing on the side, until she could see the Doctor, who was looking at her in more than a little bit of concern.

"I was... seven, I think." She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep, and I saw a star crash into the woods near my old house. I went to go and look, and... there he was."

"He?" the Doctor prompted. "What was it? Did it hurt you?"

"I told you, he was an angel!" Clara cut in. "Well, he said he wasn't, but he _looked _like it. He was glowing, he had these sort of wings, and a tattered robe. I helped him to this old shack out in the woods, he stayed for a week until he vanished again... kind of forgot about it, I suppose. Always thought he had flown back to heaven or wherever he came from." The Doctor said nothing, so she continued. "I'm just mentioning it, 'cause, you think he might have been an alien? Didn't know about them then, but now..."

"And he didn't do anything strange? He didn't try to hurt you?" The Doctor still sounded skeptical, and Clara raised an eyebrow at the constant questioning.

"What, you think he was going to try and hurt me? I was seven, and he was the one who was hurt. He'd crashed into the ground after falling from the sky, and there was this massive crater." He still didn't seem convinced. "Why, what do you think it was?"

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I just don't like coincidences like that. What did you say the date was?"

She jumped back as he leaped to his feet and ran up the stairs. "I didn't," she replied, quickly following after him. "But it was July 14th that he left. Yeah, the fourteenth. He was there for a week, so..."

"And where did you say this was?"

"Just outside my mum's old house- wait, you aren't actually going to try and find him? Doctor, I was a little girl, how can that be important?"

He only launched the TARDIS into flight, and remained entirely silent until they screeched to a halt, and he flung the doors open. Clara ran to his side, and her eyes widened as they say a glimmering, glowing light begin rising into the air above the dark woods. A flood of memories came rushing back, the little details of the conversations Clara had with her angel, ancient blue eyes and glimmering wings. The light above them was her angel, and it flew higher and higher until, when it was maybe a hundred feet up, it just... vanished.

"So?" Clara asked him. "Did that answer your questions?"

Still her friend remained quiet, and she finally turned to look at him. He seemed frozen in shock.

"Vorlon," he breathed.


End file.
